Guy Garrick HTML version

7.The Motor Bandit
Early the next morning, the telephone bell began to ring violently. The message
must have been short, for I could not gather from Garrick's reply what it was
about, although I could tell by the startled look on his face that something
unexpected had happened.
"Hurry and finish dressing, Tom," he called, as he hung up the receiver.
"What's the matter?" I asked, from my room, still struggling with my tie.
"Warrington was severely injured in a motor-car accident late last night, or rather
early this morning, near Tuxedo."
"Near Tuxedo?" I repeated incredulously. "How could he have got up there? It
was midnight when we left him in New York."
"I know it. Apparently he must have wanted to see Miss Winslow. She is up
there, you know. I suppose that in order to be there this morning, early, he
decided to start after he left us. I thought he seemed anxious to get away.
Besides, you remember he took that letter yesterday afternoon, and I totally
forgot to ask him for it last night. I'll wager it was on account of that slanderous
letter that he wanted to go, that he wanted to explain it to her as soon as he
There had been no details in the hasty message over the wire, except that
Warrington was now at the home of a Doctor Mead, a local physician in a little
town across the border of New York and New Jersey. The more I thought about
it, the more I felt that it was extremely unlikely that it could have been an
accident, after all. Might it not have been the result of an attack or a trap laid by
some strong-arm man who had set out to get him and had almost succeeded in